


The Moon and the Tide

by Terrie



Category: Macdonald Hall - Gordon Korman
Genre: Gen, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-15
Updated: 2011-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-27 09:37:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/294312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terrie/pseuds/Terrie





	The Moon and the Tide

**Author's Note:**

  * For [strippedhalo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/strippedhalo/gifts).



Boots leaned back against the old oak tree in his backyard. He should have been working on his summer reading. The assigned book was in his lap, the bookmark placed one-third of the way in. But the humid July weather was making him sleepy, so academics wasn’t his highest priority at the moment. His mom appeared at the back door. “Melvin, do you boys want some lemonade?”

He could see the confusion cross her face before she added, “Where’s Bruno?”

Boots pointed one finger straight up. His mom followed his gesture. “Sweetie, why is Bruno sitting in the tree with a pair of binoculars? I’m not going to be getting complaints from the neighbors, am I?”

“Don’t worry, Mrs. O’Neal. I’m just keeping an eye out for the ice cream truck.”

“We do have ice cream in the freezer, Bruno.”

“I know.” Bruno carefully lowered himself from the tree to land next to Boots with a small thud. “But somehow, it’s more fun when you get it from the ice cream truck.”

“If you say so.” The look she gave him was rather skeptical. “Did you want some lemonade, Bruno?”

“Lemonade would be great, Mrs. O’Neal. Thanks.”

“I’ll bring some right out. You boys just get back to... watching for the ice cream truck.” She sounded a little confused, but Boots didn’t let it bother him. She just wasn’t used to Bruno.

Rather than climbing back up in the tree, Bruno settled onto the ground next to him. “I can’t believe your mom calls you Melvin.”

“She’s the one who picked it out. Of course she uses it. I think it was originally my great-grandfather’s name.”

“Not even the Fish calls you that.” Bruno plucked a blade of grass from the lawn and twirled it between his fingers. “The only other people who do are Wexford-Smyth III and Mrs. Sturgeon. And he’s a stuck-up jerk and I’m not about to tell her no. Ever”

“The Fish calls everyone by their last name. At home, people sometimes call me Melvin. If you’re staying here, you’re going to have to get used to it.”

“Of course I’m staying.” He nudged Boots with an elbow. “Spending the summer at your place? Best. Idea. Ever.”

***

Mrs. O’Neal had cleaned up the guest room in anticipation of a visit from her son’s best friend. The first night of his stay, Bruno had changed in the guest room and then gone next door to climb into Boots’ double bed. In response to Boots’ mumbled question, he’s simply said that it was strange sleeping in the room next to Boots, instead of the same room. Now, Boots just moved over to make sure Bruno had enough space

Tonight, they had left the window open, taking advantage of the slight summer breeze. Light from a street lamp gave the room a faint glow. Bruno asked, “What do you think the Fish is doing right now?”

Boots looked over at him in the dim light. “It’s 11:30 at night. He’s probably asleep.”

“You think so?

“Bruno, if you were as old as the Fish and had to put up with us all year, wouldn’t you be asleep?”

“I guess so. I mean, he’s what? In his sixties? He really is old.”

“Yes, Bruno, he’s old.” Boots snuggled deeper into his pillows. “He’s old and probably asleep. Like I would like to be. Can’t this wait until morning?”

“No, it can’t. This is important.”

Boots knew that tone and those words. There was no way Bruno was going to let him go to sleep, so he resigned himself to a long night and reached over to turn on the bedside lamp. “So, what do you want to talk about?”

Bruno sat up and drew his knees to his chest.”This is going to be our last year at the Hall.”

“You want to talk about our senior year?” Even for Bruno, that was strange.

“Not exactly. My dad keeps bugging me about what I’m going to do after graduation. What college I’m going to go to and stuff.”

“Okay.” The conversation was not going in the direction he’d expected. Boots wasn’t sure what to do with a Bruno who wasn’t trying to convince him that he should sell a kidney for his latest scheme -- after all, he didn’t need two.

Bruno leaned forward and, if the conversation was strange, the look in his eyes was familiar. “I want to be the Fish.”

“Excuse me?”

“Think about it. The Fish is going to retire eventually. That means that someone else is going to be Headmaster at MacDonald Hall.”

If the topic was strange, the intensity was familiar. Which meant that it was Boots’ job to be the voice of reason. “Well, yeah. That’s how it works. But even if the Fish doesn’t retire in the next couple years, they aren’t going to pick you to replace him. They’re going to pick someone with a bunch of experience in education.”

“We still have to make sure that who ever they do pick is the right person. Someone who understands how important the Hall is. Besides, it will only be until I’m ready for the position.”

Boots buried his face in his hands. The guy who, just that afternoon, had been staking out the ice cream truck wanted to be Headmaster of one of the most prestigious boarding schools in Canada. And the frightening part was that, given his track record, he could probably pull it off. Eventually. With many disasters along the way. “What do you mean by ‘we?’”

“Well, you’re going to do this with me, right? It won’t be the same without you.”

“Bruno, you haven’t even told me what the plan is.” Boots sighed. “That makes it a little hard to commit.”

Bruno resettled into a cross-legged position. “Oh, that’s easy. Step one, we become teachers. Step two, we teach at the Hall. Step three, I become Headmaster. It’s actually a thing of beauty in its simplicity.”

“And what are you going to teach?”

“The Fish taught English. I looked it up. But I’m better at history, so I guess I‘ll teach that. Maybe you should teach English. You’re good at that, right?”

“I’m better at math,” muttered Boots.

“Okay, you can teach math.”

If Boots was going to protest, now would be the time. The more momentum he let Bruno build up, the harder he would be to stop. Most people wouldn’t let someone else, not even their best friend, decide their future. But Boots wasn’t most people. And, besides, Bruno was right. It wouldn’t be the same if they weren’t together. “So, any thoughts about colleges yet?”


End file.
